Perfectionism
by i-nv-u50
Summary: HP/DM slash alert! Someone is agonizing over a christmas present for someone else, and, strangely enough, its not Draco! but will Harry find the perfect gift for Draco, or does Draco already have it?


Title: Perfectionism

Author: I-nv-u50

Pairings: Draco/Harry

Warnings: Shounen ai, slash, yaoi, whatever. Oh, some bad language. _(blinks around innocently)_ what?

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine.  _(Starts singing All I want For Christmas….)_

Story Rating: PG13

Author's Notes: For real this time, here's the Christmas story I promised. And, I just want to say a very big, huge thank you to my reviewers, because you guys are all great!! 

_Harry: So when does the self promotion part come in?_

_Draco: Are you sure she wants that blurted around just yet?_

_Harry: Since when do you care?_

_Draco: (pauses) Good point._

Ahem. Anyway, yes, please join my yahoo group (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/silversparks/) and I will be forever grateful :D You can post your own HP/DM stuff there as well…

Anyway, that's about it…

Until next time then, please enjoy this, and review, and have a great Christmas and new years!! ^^

It smelt of rain, and spring, and fresh life. If he closed his eyes, he could even see the rabbits bounding over the green hills, the butterflies fluttering in a delicately warm breeze, a few clouds blowing slowly through the sky, with little wisps and tendrils floating separately. Yes, the spring lifetime was overpowering. It was absolutely absurd.

It was December, which meant it was supposed to be snowing, with the cold winter air making cheeks flush, and eyes bright, with snow men littered all over the English public parks, and snow angels on nearly every hill slope. It was supposed to be snowing to be perfect, damnit.

And Harry wanted everything to be perfect this Christmas time, simply for the reason that it was their first anniversary.

If asked for the opinion himself, Harry would never had said he was the romantic type, the kind that went into ecstatic fits of glee just because there was a candlelit dinner, or a horrendously cute stuffed toy, although Harry couldn't really admit that he mightn't mind a candlelit dinner. There was just something so… more than pleasant, really, about being able to stare into your lover's eyes over a nicely prepared and cooked meal, with the candle flames flickering between you, reflected in the beloved gray eyes. But he wasn't really the romantic type, honestly. He was comfortable just being with his boyfriend, and you didn't need romance to keep a relationship alive when you had love.

Harry gritted his teeth against the almost sappy emotion that came with thinking that delightful thought. He had also never really expected himself to fall for his worst rival from Hogwarts, but that was exactly what happened. And now, almost exactly a year after their first kiss, they would be spending their first Christmas together that was outside of Hogwarts, and Harry could see a few problems with that.

First one, and probably the biggest one as well, was the Weasleys. More specifically, it was Ron. For the first Christmas out of Hogwarts that Harry had ever known, Molly Weasley had been kind enough to invite her half adopted son and whomever he chose to bring over for a big, old fashioned Christmas meal. Undoubtedly, that would mean all the Weasleys were invited. All… God, how many were there now? Hermione wasn't included, because she had automatically been included, but Harry rather thought there were about ten Weasleys now. At least. Not including Molly and Arthur.

And since Harry was (naturally) bringing his boyfriend to the dinner at The Burrow, that in itself signified a whole lot of deeds gone wrong, creating more problems than the original few. The main one being, that Weasleys and Malfoys had never gotten along very well, and had, more likely than not, been fighting for more than the two generations that Harry himself had seen.

Shaking his head at the almost depressing reality and conflicts that he invariably found himself in, Harry returned his gaze to the store shelf.

He didn't like Christmas shopping. Before, it had been somewhat easy, even with his own dismal experience in shopping. If he ran out of ideas for Hermione, a book was always a good thing to fall back on, and Ron would more than likely be quite satisfied with a few sweets and Chudley Cannons merchandise.

Harry had already bought their Christmas gift, a duel present for the both of them, something he was quite sure that they'd enjoy. It was, by all accounts, nothing more than a small minivan, but in reality, it had a lot of magical features that would actually really help the newly weds. Things like a built in TV, because there would probably be a lot of kids eventually, and TV was a great way to keep them entertained with something other than their parent's wands, and a mini kitchen in the boot, which was really rather big.

But Draco… Draco was another thing altogether. His gift had to be perfect, and as Harry had never had another lover, or rather, had never had another lover over the period of time that required a Christmas present; he had no idea what to buy the blonde boy. The fact that Harry had never actually exuded a lot of detailed thought and perfectionism didn't exactly help the situation either.

The hardest thing, Harry mused, putting down something that wasn't good enough and looking in another aisle, was that he was looking for something perfect. Yet, try as he might, he could not get it out of his head that drake deserved nothing less.

Harry was honestly beginning to think he had fallen top over tail for the slightly older young man, and he was quite unnerved by the idea. He had never really been in love before. Sure, he had crushes, but most of them had petered out naturally after a few weeks or, in the longest case, a few months. Never had he actually thought the one he would fall in love with would be a Slytherin whose greatest talent it seemed, although there were many, was being able to reduce the boy who lived into a pile of romantic mush. If there was such a thing, anyway.

Draco yawned, and glanced at his watch with mere boredom. It wasn't a bad watch actually; it had the star cycles, and the time, plus a weather forecast, a compass, and a little thing that Draco hadn't quite figured out the use of yet. 

Harry was late. He had said he might be late, but this was ridiculous. It was almost five minutes past the arranged meeting time, and Harry was supposed to have been there early! 

Draco looked up and smiled grimly at the waitress who put a bottle of butterbeer down in front of him, and she smiled back, an almost scared expression in her eyes. Now really. Was that quite necessary?

"Anything else sir?" 

"No thank you."

The waitress backed away, looking grateful to get away. If Harry hadn't walked in the door that moment, Draco might have been insulted a little by the fear on her face. As it was, he merely scowled at the brunette who sat down opposite him, shaking snow out of his hair.

Harry caught his scowl, and grinned back unapologetically. "Sorry I'm late. It's snowing a little hard out there."

"Hm." Draco said through closed lips, eyeing his lover inscrutably. "Where were you?"

Harry looked a little fidgety, and waved a hand, avoiding the piercing stare of the gray eyes. "Nowhere special."

"Hm." Draco repeated disbelievingly, but e let it drop. Harry was remarkably good at keeping secrets when he wanted to. "Did you get a hold of the Weasels?"

Harry frowned at him, and Draco remembered belatedly that Harry didn't approve of that nickname, although Draco was quite fond of it. Draco shrugged slightly, and Harry shook his head, lifting up a hand to wave the waitress over.

"Yes sir?" The waitress still looked scared, and Draco scowled harder.

Harry ordered a butterbeer as well, and turned back to Draco as the waitress hurried away gratefully. "No, I haven't spoken to Ron yet. Hermione was looking at good pediatricians. Or something like that." Harry grinned and shrugged. "She'll call back later."

Draco eyed the other young man thoughtfully, the scowl crease disappearing from between his brows as he searched Harry's face. Then he smiled, although it might have been a smirk. "You were shopping, weren't you?"

Harry's eyes widened with an assumed innocence. "Why would you think that?"

Draco smirked, a proper smirk this time, although it was amused and not cruel. "You get that look whenever you go shopping. As long as you didn't buy clothes, your taste is still quite appalling."

Harry took the jibe good naturedly, with all the acceptance of one who knows the other is right. "No. I was just browsing."

Draco eyed the other carefully, noticing the Harry's attempts to try and avoid his gaze. It was almost fairly obvious what Harry had been doing, and Draco smiled suddenly, unaccountably pleased at the idea, and he decided to let it drop.

"Really? I hope you found some good stuff. I saw this beautiful little trinket that would suit my mother wonderfully this afternoon…"

Harry shivered on the doorstep, waiting for either one of his best friends to open the door. He would admit it. He needed help. Not to choose a gift for Draco, but to choose a gift for one's lover. He had no experience doing that, and maybe, once he got help in that little bit, the other part would follow soon after. Or at least he hoped so. 

Ron and Hermione, after years of being lovers would surely have to know how to choose a gift for one's beloved. Well, all right, maybe not Ron, but surely Hermione. Weren't girls supposed to be good at that kind of thing?

At last Ron opened the door. "Harry! Where have you been? Herm's been trying to contact you all evening, you said it was urgent, but you never gave a number where we can call you back."

"Sorry," Harry apologized, stepping inside and taking his boots off, shaking the snow out of his hair as he did so. "Went out with Draco this afternoon."

Ron's face immediately assumed an 'I don't understand how you can date that shitty excuse of a human' look, and opened his mouth to say something.

Harry gave him a dirty look. "Ron, enough. We've been through this a hundred times before, and I'd rather not go through it again just yet."

Ron gave him a doubtful look, but closed his mouth again, just leading the way into the smallish, but homey looking living room. "Herm! Harry's here!"

Hermione walked in through a door opposite, coming in from the kitchen. She was looking very well, and hadn't started waddling yet, but Ron was a protective father-to-be, and he hustled her to a seat which she took resignedly, almost laughing at her husband's attempt to get her to go faster, but not too fast. Harry had to agree with her, it was a funny sight, but he didn't think he would be any different if he had a wife whom he loved dearly and whom was pregnant. Happily, Draco didn't stand a chance of getting pregnant, so it would be rather hard for Harry to show the amusing mixture of concern, worry and pride that Ron showed so well.

"Hello Harry." Hermione smiled warmly, and Harry grinned back, happy now that he had his friends again. For a few months before and after the other two's hook up, he had been a little afraid that they would have no more time for him, but if that had happened, and he didn't think it had, he had gotten together with Draco a few months after Ron and Hermione's public come out, so it wouldn't have hurt so much.

Thankfully, he had never felt left out, and he was extremely grateful for it, because he knew how often that could happen.

But that didn't solve his problem, and he hadn't come here to ponder over the details of his and Ron and Hermione's friendship, when he felt happily secure in it anyway. 

"I need your help." Harry sat down on the couch opposite Hermione and Ron, facing the two of them with all the seriousness he could muster. They had to understand how important this was to him, or they wouldn't help, solely because of their irrational dislike of Draco.

Hermione nodded once, almost sharply, as did Ron. "Anything."

"I don't know what to get Draco for Christmas."

Harry had been prepared for Ron's groan of disbelief, but Hermione nodded again, looking thoughtful this time.

He blinked at her. "Herm?"

Hermione transferred her gaze from staring distantly at the wall above Harry's head, to Harry's eyes. "Do you really need our help Harry? Are you and Draco fighting?"

"No," Harry answered slowly and truthfully. "It's just that I've never bought a Christmas present for someone I love like that before, and I have no idea what to do."

Hermione latched onto the wrong part of the sentence. "Love? Are you sure Harry?"

Harry tried not to grin goofily, but he didn't think he succeeded, not with Ron staring at him with a mixture of amusement, happiness and disgust. Harry assumed the disgust was because of the recipient of Harry's feelings.

Hermione looked satisfied however, and she smiled happily at him. "If you're that sure, Harry, congratulations. But I can't help you with what you should buy him, I don't know him like you do."

Ron muttered something that Harry couldn't hear, but Hermione obviously did, because she glared at the redhead, who grinned sheepishly. 

"I know that," Harry replied instead, deciding he didn't want to know, "but how do I choose? What type of gift? Like clothes, or stuffed animals, or candy, or what?"

Hermione shrugged almost helplessly, looking honestly disappointed that she couldn't help Harry. "I don't know, Harry, really I don't. I'm sorry, but I can't help you. Just buy him whatever feels right."

Harry sighed silently, and put his face in his hands. If that was all the advice he was able to receive, he might as well give up now. Nothing seemed right for Draco.

Draco looked around curiously. He had been in this neighbourhood before, like when Harry had dragged him to the after-reception party for the Weasel's wedding. Neither Ron nor Draco had been pleased to have the blonde there, but Harry had wanted it and, as much as Draco hated to admit it, he rarely could say no when it came to Harry.

He wasn't the mushy type, Draco knew, and Harry had accepted that easily, even though Draco had suspicions that Harry was a slight romantic. But Draco did try, and on the occasions when he went out of his way to do something he knew Harry might like, the secretly delighted expression in the emerald green eyes had been all the reward he ever needed, or ever would need.

Draco shook his head silently at how far he seemed to be gone, and knocked on the door with distaste. He suspected Harry might be here, he always came here when something was bothering him, and he hadn't come home yet.

The door opened shortly before Draco knocked again, and the redhead who answered it glared at him with resentful hatred. 

"Oh. It's you." Ron said, for all the world sounding like he was addressing the devil himself.

"It's me," Draco acknowledged easily, the automatic smirk appearing on his face. "Am I allowed to come in, or has your darling wife forbidden it?"

Ron turned red slightly, though whether with anger or embarrassment, Draco couldn't tell. For a second it looked like he wasn't going to be let in, but then Ron snorted with disgust and backed off, leaving Draco alone in the hallway to look after himself.

There were a few quiet mumbles coming from where Draco vaguely remembered the living room to be, and once his boots were off, he followed the voices down the hallway, pausing at the entrance.

Harry looked up from the couch immediately, and Draco gave a small half smile for Harry alone, a smile that Hermione apparently saw, because she gave a small smile of her own and invited Draco to sit down.

"No thank you." Draco replied coldly, piqued that she had the audacity to see a smile that wasn't meant for her. "I might catch something. Ready to leave yet, Potter?"

Harry scowled a little at the remark, but said nothing as climbing dizzily to his feet seemed to require more attention.

Ron, however, was not so forgiving. "What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy?"

"I am collecting my boyfriend," Draco calmly said, stepping forward to help Harry up once it seemed certain that the brunette wasn't going to make it on his own. "What the hell did you do to him?"

"It's more like, what did you do to him?" Ron retorted angrily, before getting hushed by Hermione.

Draco frowned a little, confusion flicking quickly across his eyes before they became disdainful again, and he smirked. "Obviously I'm not going to tell you, am I. Why, you might even endanger yourself by trying to help, and then where would your pregnant little wife be, hm?"

Ron snarled something, but Hermione, who had risen quite quickly, given her state, grabbed a hold of Ron's sweater and held on valiantly. "I think you'd better go," she frowned, and Draco readily agreed, helping Harry to the door.

Harry was staring vaguely at nothing, and followed Draco meekly down to the road, where he tumbled into Draco's arms.

Draco muttered a curse, and then apparated home, determined not to let the implications of what Ron had said earlier upset him. 

When Harry woke up, there was a pale, blearily blurred face hovering just above his, and a cool wet something pressed against his forehead. He mumbled something, and tried to sit up, only to be pushed back down again roughly.

"Hold still, Potter." 

The familiar voice, using a not so familiar name. What had he done wrong? Harry stretched out an arm, reaching for glasses that weren't within reach, only to have Draco's cool fingers slide them on. 

Harry looked up fuzzily, Draco's face immediately more focused and a little further back now, the face guarded and expressionless, although there was a hint of concern in the gray eyes, making them slightly misty.

"What's wrong?" it felt like something had died and replaced Harry's tongue, it was heavy and thick, and really hard to move.

"You got drunk at the Weasel's last night. I don't suppose you remember why, hm?" The casual question, phrased so carefully, had the essence of wrongness, although Harry wasn't quite sure what about, and his head hurt too much to try and puzzle out the reason.

"I was upset because…" Harry replied slowly, trying to think of the reason.

"Mm?" Draco's reply was mumbled as he leant over the bed, presumably to pick up a new cloth.

"I was upset because I didn't know what to get you…" Harry mumbled slowly, quite unaware that he was speaking out loud.

Draco's figure beside him on the bed, froze and tensed, and then started to shake, ever so slightly.

Harry, alerted from his quiet reflection, hoped he hadn't just said what he thought he had, and turned his head ever so slightly, wincing when the pain in his head increased slightly.

When Draco sat up again, his face was slightly flushed, and he was smiling openly, almost laughing as he leaned down and pressed a quick, but not chaste kiss to Harry's lips.

He pulled back before Harry could respond however, much to Harry's disappointment, and wiped his lips, frowning slightly. Harry was a little insulted.

"You taste foul." Draco complained, and he started to laugh again slightly, shaking his head at the bemused expression on Harry's face. "You know I don't like that brand, how dare you drink it."

Harry's confused frown disappeared, and he smiled slowly, appreciating the attempt at a joke. "I'm sorry, I could try better next time."

Draco grunted quietly in reply, and stared down at Harry for so long, that Harry thought there must be something wrong with him.

"What is it?" Harry asked, but Draco just shook his head.

"Moron." Draco's tone was quiet, and laced with something altogether out of reach from Harry's pained mind at the moment. "Did you really have to go and get drunk because you don't know what to get me?"

"Oh." Harry flushed, sheepishly avoiding Draco's eyes. "I said that aloud?" 

At Draco's amused but confirming nod, Harry sighed slightly. "Damnit."

"Why?" Draco's voice was soft, and Harry looked at him sharply, not understanding the cause of the faint touch of whatever it was in Draco's voice.

"Why what?"

"Why do this for me? I know I'm lovable and everything, but does it really require that much stupidity?"

"Huh?"

Draco shook his head silently, and pressed the cloth back down on Harry's head. "Oh shut up. Go back to sleep, your head will hurt like something awful before long."

Harry agreed before he knew what he was really agreeing to, and Draco smirked again. "Don't forget, we have to leave for the Weasley's in a few hours."

Harry's eyes flew open again, but Draco had already shut the door behind him, and Harry groaned. How could he have forgotten? It was Christmas.

Draco sat silently in the kitchen of their home, contemplating the swirling surface of a mug of hot chocolate. Despite the fact that it was a muggle drink, and it wasn't as good as butterbeer, Draco actually liked it. Harry had introduced him to the drink, and it had only been a matter of time before Draco started drinking it even when Harry wasn't there. It had taken a few tries to get it right, but after a few sort of bad experiences, in which Harry had laughed at him and showed him the right way to do things, Draco had learnt how to make the perfect cup of hot chocolate.

It was strange, Draco thought, at how different he and Harry really were. 

Harry wasn't as naïve as he had been before he had come to Hogwarts, and he was definitely a lot more suspicious of some things, but to equal things up a bit, he was more trusting than ever on other things. Like how he trusted Draco not to hurt him. It wasn't trusting blindly as he used to do, but it was a full hearted trust, maybe not quite earned, but given with the conviction that it was deserved.

Draco, on the other hand, had never been naïve, and didn't give trust very easily. Except, it seemed, to Harry, whom Draco had started trusting without reserve some time around their sixth month together. It had been earned, and fought for, and definitely deserved. Draco was also suspicious quite easily, and it had taken him a while to realize, and even longer to accept the love that he had been so adverse to feel and show before. 

But now, maybe, it wasn't so bad. He knew what he was going to give Harry. Maybe Harry could give him something similar, if it hadn't already been given, which Draco rather thought it had. He could see it sometimes, in the emerald green eyes, in the way they looked into him…

Draco shook his head silently at himself, reproving quietly, and downed a big sip, just managing to refrain from choking as the still scalding liquid burned its way down his throat. He wouldn't think like that. He'd give it to Harry, and if Harry accepted it, he would be content.

The Burrow was a noisy mass of people, and Harry was loving the whole experience. He had always spent his more pleasurable Christmas' at Hogwarts, somehow never managing to find time to get to The Burrow, for some reason or another. Truthfully, this was his third home, after Hogwarts and the house he shared with Draco. Earlier on in his life, it had been his second.

The Weasleys had not been thrilled to find out that Harry's date was Draco, although they all more or less knew that the two were lovers.

Surprisingly enough though, Draco was actually being polite to the family. There had been a bit of a lapse when he had walked in and smirked superiorly, but Harry had nudged him, and there had been no more almost mishaps or arguments. Of course, with a family this big, it was impossible not to have some arguments, especially between the two youngest members of the original family, but Draco wasn't in any way connected with these. Or so he claimed, and Harry had little enough suspicion to believe him and settle down for what promised to be an enjoyable and amusing evening.

His hangover had quite disintegrated into nothing with help from Draco, and later Hermione, and after a brisk and energizing quidditch match in the field a little way away from the main house, Harry settled down on a sagging sofa and idly watched Ron and Ginny battle it out with an enthusiastic game of exploding snap.

Hermione was helping in the kitchen, and the other boys were all in the garden with their father, probably helping prepare the tables for the main meal. 

Harry and Ron had only escaped helping because they had arrived an hour or so earlier, and all the others had arrived that morning. The reason made little sense to Harry, but he accepted it grinningly, and had obediently settled down to rest in the family room, according to Molly's instructions.

Draco quietly came and sat next to Harry, and Harry automatically leaned into the blonde boy, wondering why Draco was being so polite to the Weasleys. Not that Harry wasn't grateful, he was just wondering what had happened to ignite the change in the other young man.

Ginny glanced at them, then shook her head despairingly. Harry knew she still half cherished hopes that she and Harry would eventually go out, but Harry knew he'd never be able to. If Draco and he ever did break up, which Harry hoped would never happen, Harry was too used to having a boyfriend to take on a girlfriend. If he ever recovered from such a break up, which he doubted he would be able to. 

He really had fallen for his blonde ex-nemesis.

He looked sideways at the blonde from the corner of his eye. Draco was almost looking bored, but not quite, a polite, non-expression on his face. He almost yawned, but then didn't, and Harry found himself wondering if his boyfriend had been replaced with a non-aggressive Draco while he had still been recuperating.

Draco caught him looking and smirked slightly, giving a quick wink as Ron gave an outraged yell and Ginny cackled with glee. Draco looked slightly pained, but it was obvious he was trying to stifle it, and Harry felt a quick surge of thankfulness. It would have gotten ugly if he had to separate Draco and the Weasleys, even if Hermione and the other Weasley wives had helped. Harry had to, in all honesty, say that they probably wouldn't, because most of them had been at Hogwarts when Draco had been, and none of them liked him very much at all.

Draco stared down at his plate in astonishment. This was a meal to rival even those given at Hogwarts. He had always thought that the Weasleys meals would be dull and plain, a token of their poor financial standing, but this was almost as good as his meals had been back at the Malfoy Manor. He shut down on that thought before it even began, determined not to think of his old home, especially not on Christmas.

Harry's hand slipped under the table and squeezed his knee, before gently sliding back a little ways and entwining his fingers with that of Draco's, all the while never missing a beat in his conversation with Charlie Weasley, who sat on his other side. Draco ruefully squeezed the hand back, reminded again at just how romantic Harry was, and pathetically grateful from the reassurance Draco was wordlessly being given.

On his other side was Hermione, as she was one least likely to be thrown into a rage if he accidentally let something rude slip out, although Draco was a little in awe of her slapping abilities, that he had learned in third year, and again in fifth and more times in sixth year as well.

He rather respected that, and he and Hermione usually got on pretty well – as in that they were never at each others throats, like he and the weasel always were.

It was more a deep, chillingly polite dislike that he and Hermione shared.

Draco, responding to the ever so lightly increased pressure on his hand, looked up to see Arthur Weasley giving him a tentative smile. He gave a half smile back, and was rewarded by the slow circular movement of Harry's thumb on the back of his hand. 

He settled down and stared at his food again, knowing that if he opened his mouth, it would more likely merit a negative response before what he was saying fully got out. A little unfair maybe, but Draco understood. They probably would have been treated the same way by his own family – if, of course, Lucius hadn't tortured them all first. He clamped down on that thought before he continued. It was Christmas, and he had far more pleasant things to think about.

Harry grinned a little at what Ron had said in defense of the Cannons, and sneaked a peek at Draco. The pale coloured boy, standing out so much from the main group of people, stood out even further with the fact that he looked almost completely bored and almost miserable.

Harry frowned with concern and excused himself and Draco politely, lightly tugging on Draco's hand to get the other to stand up as well.

Draco followed him wordlessly into the house and up the stairs into Ron's own room, where Harry knew they'd be left alone.

"What's wrong?" were the first words out of Harry's mouth, and Draco blinked at him wordlessly.

"What do you mean?" 

"You're looking all miserable," Harry answered, "and you're more pale than usual, and you're obviously upset about something."

Draco smirked slightly. "Am I that obvious?"

"Only to me." Harry smirked back, but it faded as he stared at Draco soulfully. "Tell me what's wrong."

"It's just that…" Draco paused, trying to find words where he might never have bothered before. "It's because…"

Harry waited patiently, watching Draco steadily as the blonde boy searched for the right words to talk with.

"It's our anniversary, and there's a lot more places I'd rather be than here!"

Harry blinked in some surprise, then lowered his eyes. He sounded hurt when he came up with an answer. "Don't you want to be here with me then?"

Draco blinked at him, astonished that Harry had taken hat the wrong way. "No, you git. I want us to be alone."

"We are alone," Harry countered, gesturing around the empty room. "Is there anything else you'd like to get out?"

Draco glared at Harry for taking this the wrong way, for having to make him say it sooner than he had planned. "No! You don't understand!"

Harry blinked, surprised at the fervent tone. "All right then."

Draco sighed and dropped his face into his hands before pushing them back through his hair, fingers sliding through the blonde strands easily. "Look, I didn't want to say it here, but… I love you." Draco gazed almost pleadingly at the other person in the room. "Can we go now? I want to go home."

Harry stared in delirious joy and shock at the other man. Draco loved him. How amazing was that. He had guessed how Draco had felt, of course he had, but to have Draco actually come out and say the words to his face…!

Draco abruptly found himself with an armful of ecstatic Harry, and quite soon after a mouthful of the same, and he pulled back a few minutes later, gasping for breath and trembling, to rest his forehead against Harry's and close his eyes. "We really shouldn't be doing this here. We could be caught any minute."

"Whose fault is that?" Harry mumbled back softly. "You shouldn't have told me here."

"I tried to get you to go home first," Draco reminded him, and Harry had to concede that he was right.

"A few minutes more…" Harry breathed, and leaned up for another kiss.

"We're going to get in so much trouble if we're caught…" Draco whispered, pulling back before Harry's lips could touch his, looking steadily into the emerald green eyes.

Harry gave a low chuckle, his eyes glittering with mirth and something more. "You mean we're going to be fucked?"

"Yes…" Draco breathed, and lowered his head slightly. "You especially."

Harry chuckled slightly again and closed the distance between their lips, feeling closer to Draco than he ever had before. 

"Draco… I love you too…" he murmured softly, and Draco pulled away to stare into those green green eyes before he smiled slightly.

"I know."

And when they finally kissed, it was Perfection. 


End file.
